There's a humble abode
In a heart that you know
Philosophize for me
I'm not surprised
You sell yourself so short
A pair of pretty eyes
You got a love for ladies tresses
Demure distresses are the least
Of all your appellative problems
Revolving round your apple cheeks
You run the humble side of high wires
Within the profession of defeat
The grating screeching sound
Of Roman Candle Winters
The grating screeching sound
Of Roman Candle Winters
And skirlish treachery
Slow motion bullets come on strong
Transient trills as they traipse along
It's all ahoy or anchors boys
It's no mirage
And all the ghosts we're running from
Well they'll keep on
White wine and catheters
A lonely lock that's glazed with ice
We make the world just what we want
We forge low valleys lit by night
So make this moment to remember
'Cause I'm not yours to hold or keep
You'll never claim me
You'll never hold no claim to me
You'll never claim me
You'll never hold no claim to me
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